


Addicts Don't Make Wise Decisions

by AngeNoir



Category: Corruption of Champions
Genre: Addicted to cum, Brainwashed Sex, Dehumanization, Drugged Sex, F/M, Forced Pregnancy, Large Cock, bimbofication, incubator for life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 05:23:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18514759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/pseuds/AngeNoir
Summary: Who knew it would only take one more trip to the salon to seal her fate?





	Addicts Don't Make Wise Decisions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [praxyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/praxyn/gifts).



> i tried but i don't think i succeeded, sorry 

It had been days, now. She’d done her best, wandering around aimlessly, not really caring which direction she traveled. She knew in her heart that she dare not travel to the one place she really wanted to. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t encounter another beast accidentally again. It was already hard to think of something other than them, of their strength, their height, their  _ cocks _ …

Swallowing hard, she stared around her campsite longingly.

Maybe if all she did was… drink their cum. That’s all she needed, anyway. She could do that under controlled circumstances, easily. No problem. Just… go to that salon. She could, well, she could… color her hair? It might look strange. Then again, she didn’t really care what she looked like, anymore: she’d grown a dick, had it taken by Ceraph, grown a dog tail, then a fox tail, and now had a horse tail—had her breasts grow  _ substantially _ , and they were a constant irritation now, a weight against her, as well as had her ass plump up from the four or five times she’d run into Akbal in the forest…

Suffice to say, she could get her hair lengthened. Maybe put it in a nice braid, or a high ponytail, letting them use it as a handhold as they…

_ No _ . This is exactly why she had to satisfy her cravings. She didn’t want to become their plaything. She wanted to manage this on her own. She  _ could _ manage this on her own. All she needed to do was… just, she needed to be able to think without shivering, without catching herself again and again starting to will herself towards the mountains instead of to the plains or the swamp.

Lynnette looked her up and down and sighed a little. “Still can’t pay on your own,” she remarked sadly. “I miss your cock.”

When Lynnette didn’t get any reply from her, the goblin rolled her eyes and gestured to the gloryholes. “Which one? Though I might well guess. You’re not the first person to think that they could delay the inevitable.”

She wondered whether Lynnette could see the twitchiness, the shifting of her eyes constantly towards that glorious, lovely, hideous dick that thrust proudly from the largest hole available. This close, her brain fogged, and some primal part of her brain screamed at her, screamed that she was rationalizing something away that she shouldn’t, that she was only sinking deeper into the mire of this demonic land, that cutting off all contact, all interaction, that was the only way to go—

She was shocked out of her own thoughts when her knees crashed to the floor. She hadn’t even realized she had been walking towards the monstrous appendage, drawn like a moth to flame, and now, on the floor like a worshipper seeking blessings from their god, she knelt submissively and looked up at the massive minotaur cock.

Shuddering, she trailed the tips of her fingers from crown, down the three ridges, before carefully cradling her holy grail. The scent and musk of the minotaur invaded her nostrils, and for a moment she just breathed it in, eyes fluttering shut and rolling back, rational thought muted as wetness gushed between her thighs, slicking the loincloth of her bee armor and trickling down her thighs.

Her god rumbled behind the wall, cock jerking in her hands, and she readily opened her mouth wide and took in the spongy head.

This close, this intimate, the drug-like semen sunk into her senses, filling her mouth, her nostrils flaring, practically hugging the cock before her as she sought to touch it with as much of her body as possible.

_ “Minotaur addicts, almost more problems than their worth.” _

The words blew past her—she practically didn’t even care about human speech, anymore, she just wanted that glorious heavy fluid, and as she suckled, the beast on the other side of the wall slammed his hips forward, thrusting the thick dick down her throat, cutting off her air, until she was dizzy with the weight of the cock on her tongue and in her throat.

Then the monster was coming, thick jism spilling down her throat and into her belly and she moaned in ecstasy.

It took her a moment to realize she had fallen back, using fingers and tongue to catch what spilled over her face and nose, and that hands were scooping up the cum that had poured down her chin like a waterfall to coat her breasts. Were she more aware, and able to react, she would have tried to stop the goblin from doing so, from taking away her lovely cum, but as it was she was still dazed, still out of it, still unable to do anything but moan and writhe as her lust ratcheted up higher and higher.

The rational part of her brain, the one that still existed under the layer of corruption, that kept trying to reassert itself, realized that this had been a terrible, terrible mistake.

***

She wandered back to her camp in the thickening twilight, satiated and woozy. At her camp, she had Rathazul and Isabella look at her, one suspiciously, one placidly, as she crawled into her bed area and tried to get a good night’s sleep.

Which was impossible, of course, not in this world, and she tossed and turned, dreaming of having her hips bracketed by thick, monstrously large hands, of her belly distending around a cock that shoved carelessly, with little regard for her own pleasure, of deep grunts and bellows as she was treated as an object, as a plaything, as a  _ toy _ …

She woke, shuddering, feeling so aroused that she knew, should she wander out of the camp like this, it would only invite a whole host of problems. She needed to relieve herself, and, guiltily, she snuck off away from the camp and slid her hands under her loincloth. Why Rathazul would look so disappointed at her choices but craft her armor that had no protection besides boots for her lower half…

But she had to admit, it did make her life a lot easier. When she was defeated, a creature could easily shove the silk aside instead of having her clothes torn or dragged from her body—she’d hate for the craftsmanship of the armor to be destroyed because the plates were too hard to push out of the way so some big, strong hands ripped apart the plates and gripped her drooling gash...

Sliding her fingers through her loose, puffy cunt lips, she laid on the ground, knees spread, doing her best to bite on her free hand to muffle her moans. She needed a good dicking, a black, oily part of her brain whispered. She needed something thick and long spearing her, showing her her place because she was no better than an animal, and she deserved to be treated like an animal, a beast panting over her and rearranging her guts as it drove into her,  _ breeding _ her, making her nothing but a hole to pop out other minotaurs, a bitch perpetually in heat and gagging for it…

With a sharp cry, she clenched around her fingers, fluids gushing forth from her sex, and as she began to drift off, she tried to firm her resolve. She was a Champion of her people, seeking to purify this land.

She couldn’t succumb. She  _ couldn’t _ .

***

Part of the problem, she had to admit, came from the fact that she was searching the mountain for whatever she needed to do to purify Marae. She had told herself that if she found that factory and ended it, this land and its constant attacks on her person would end.

So she had, admittedly, hung around the mountain far more often than she ought. In the beginning, she had not been all that strong or powerful, and it wasn’t hard for the hellhounds and minotaurs to overpower her. Then, even as she grew more powerful… she began to hesitate before the final blow. She wasn’t sure why, at the beginning. She just knew that the musky scent was just…  _ intoxicating _ .

She hadn’t realized she’d been addicted until too late, and then she tried to quell the urges by slowly, carefully, just satisfying her urges at the salon. But that didn’t keep her from turning her eyes to the mountain, over and over again, knowing the factory was there.

Better yet, knowing that  _ they _ were there.

The thought sent shivers up her spine. She needed to purify the land, after all. She’d already wandered around the desert and plains, the swamp and even the bog. Surely… surely this close to dusk, the minotaurs would have fallen asleep.

_ She didn’t know who she was trying to lie to. _

Trembling, eager, she approached the mountain, almost… almost  _ hoping _ that a minotaur would be simply standing there to stuff their cock down her throat.

Yet it obviously wasn’t as simple as that; she walked up the mountain unmolested, and wandered around. She was tougher, and she guessed that was good. Still, disappointed, she turned to leave.

A familiar scent drifted past her nose. Involuntarily, she groaned, eyes fluttering shut, and she took two steps in the direction before shaking her head and coming to her senses. What was she  _ doing _ ? She couldn’t give in. She had to remain strong.

...But that  _ scent _ . So thick there must be at least four, maybe more, all together. Standing tall, shoulders broad, face flattened and those horns lowered as thick nostrils flared. Contempt in their eyes as they looked at her, seeing her for the  _ slut _ she was, so in heat she couldn’t even realize she was walking closer, letting the scent burn her nostrils, make her eyes roll back in her head, tongue loll out as if she were the cow-creature, not them…

She dragged open her eyes to see she’d walked a few more steps in the direction of the scent.

No.  _ No _ . She had to remain firm. She… had to…

...was the scent stronger, now? How could—

She turned away from the direction she had been, involuntarily, walking towards and nearly walked face-first into a ripped abdomen. The front of her body pressed against a clearly thick, almost shaking, shaft almost the full length of her arm, now framed by her overly ample breasts.

Ohhh, what would it feel like buried into her cunt?

The oversized hand dropped down to her shoulder, massive against her petite frame, and her nose was pressed into the creature’s belly.

The minotaur snuffled, and then a devilish grin split his inhuman face. “Fuck toy.”

The words were a deep bass, vibrating through his belly, and she shuddered, arms involuntarily coming up and grasping… holding… she didn’t know what. She stood there, eyes wide, pupils dilated at the intense, concentrated scent sunk into her nose.

The creature tilted his head, considering, and grunted. “Not yet. But not willing to wait.” With that, his massive hand cupped around her torso and hefted her up as if she were no more a bother than a knapsack, tossing her over his shoulder. His hand spread wide enough to  _ juuust _ cup her plush, ample ass, and one finger was rubbing maddeningly over her slightly loose hole.

“N- _ no _ —” she started, because she was going to walk away, she wasn’t going to walk towards the thick scent…

He didn’t care; he ignored her words, striding down the path she had been fighting not to travel, and the scent just got deeper and deeper. It became… just background, something that made the silk at her cunt thick and satiny as it soaked her juices, then became oversaturated, and then rubbed and chafed. She went into a daze, trying to figure out how to get out of this, trying not to imagine that giant hand holding her like a fleshlight and jerking his cock with her warm insides…

Unceremoniously, she was dumped to the ground. Still in a daze, she clambered to her knees and tried to look around.

It was… a kind of village. There were caves, and crude huts, and a roaring fire around which four other minotaurs sat. All of their turgid cocks were bared and slick with pre—all except one, who had a vaguely humanoid looking creature with dragonfly wings and a huge, distended belly planted squarely on his dick. He jiggled his leg, making the body slide up and down his dick, even as one hand chugged back a black, viscous liquid and the other was wrapped in the glittering pink long hair as if it were reins.

_ Lucky, _ was her first thought.

“New fuck toy. Almost perfect. Needs more.”

Immediately, there were more minotaurs, all surrounding her, and she gasped, shaking, and started to stand up. “No, no,” she said shakily, “I don’t—I don’t need—”

Rudely, one shoved the spongy head of its dick, already slick with precum and slimy from some creature’s cunt, against her nostril and reflexively, she inhaled.

“Ohhhhh,” she breathed out.

“Need more,” the minotaur behind her grunted, and then shoved her forward into waiting hands.

This minotaur was slightly smaller, closer to her height, and putting a hand on her head, he exerted the smallest pressure, just the  _ slightest _ hint of suggestion for her to fall to her knees.

_ I shouldn’t. _

The moans and ecstatic cries of the other female invaded her ears, and her vision was entirely taken up by the shiny, wet shaft before her.

Her eyes went glassy, and slowly, like the slide of melted wax, her legs folded under her again, and she lifted her chin like a penitent worshipper, mouth falling open.

_ You fool! _ her brain screamed at her, even as the minotaur patted her head like a dog. “Good fuck toy,” he said, and  _ thrust _ .

***

She lost track of how many dicks she sucked, how much thick cream poured down her throat like manna from heaven, and she was soaked, their cum like soap sinking into her skin, changing her to her very marrow. A distant part of her screamed, railed against the loss of control, and she couldn’t keep her eyes from glancing towards the edge of the village. If she could… somehow… just gather up enough energy, enough motivation…

Something wrapped around her distended belly, making her moan at the cramping in her gut. She didn’t know if she could take another dick in her throat…

It was the first minotaur, the one that had carried her here. He was leering at her, smirking, his wide nostrils flaring.

“Now, you perfect fuck toy. Have my sons.”

Her mouth dropped open, but before she could do anything—even moan, because, embarrassingly, that was her first response—his hand twisted and she was rotated, legs and arms dangling down, and his massive cock was sliding between her legs, sliding through her cunt lips to kiss against her bellybutton, the bottoms of her breasts.

Ohh, it would be so  _ big _ in her…

He shifted, his shaft pressing up, and then he slid her again, up his shaft…

...and  _ down _ .

She shrieked as his cock forced into her passage, spreading her wide, and she writhed as best she could, struggling slightly as her limbs twitched and breasts bounced.

She was nothing to him. A toy to massage his dick until he came, a hole to fill until she got heavy with children. She was fuck toy.

Another weak orgasm overtook her, and with a shivery wail, she gushed around his shaft, lost forever to the minotaur village.

***

Sometimes, in the early morning, particularly after a few days or so when the minotaurs were out seeding more addicts, encouraging more sluts, and she hung against the breeding bench, oversized boobs and thick, distended nipples dragging against the floor, limp in the restraints as her belly gurgled with another child, she could remember.

She could remember a time when she had walked this mountain, searching for the end to this corruption. She could remember she was once a Champion.

Inevitably, no matter how long those recollections stayed with her, how weakly she struggled, a minotaur would return to the village. He’d see her, see the long line of sluts just there, meant for nothing more than giving birth. And then he’d step up—maybe not to her, maybe to someone else, but it didn’t matter. The scent would rise, and her trained brain could only groan, eyes rolling back and tongue flopping out, waiting for some of the cream that made up her whole existence now.

Sometimes, one would pet her flank, affectionately call her ‘Mom.’ Sometimes, a tiny runt one would creep up when no others were around, would shove in and rabbit-fuck her until he came way too early. Sometimes, that first minotaur, the one that she thought muddily as hers, would step up behind her, thrust in lazily, and all she could do was slump there in her bonds and take whatever they gave her.

She wanted it all anyway.


End file.
